


The Adoption Sequence - Third: A Growing Family

by rei_c



Series: Cannibalism Aside (Samn) [33]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Blood, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Consort Dean Winchester, Demon Dean Winchester, Families of Choice, Family Bonding, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Meet the Family, Unfortunate Implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Cooper comes to them young and Diana comes to them already eagle-eye focused on the First Blade. The others come -- differently.





	The Adoption Sequence - Third: A Growing Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [formalizing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/gifts).



Cooper comes to them young and Diana comes to them already eagle-eye focused on the First Blade. The others come -- differently. Every one of them comes differently, in their own way, in their own time.

\--

Tom is sixteen when they find him sitting in one of the bathroom stalls at his high school during second period. Dean doesn't ask what he's doing there, why he's not in class or, better yet, why he's wasting his time here where he could be skipping school altogether. Instead, he just asks, "Hey, Tom, you wanna get out of here? I could go for a milkshake. My treat." Tom opens the door, looks at these two men who definitely do not belong in his school, and asks, "What's in it for me?" with the kind of attitude that says there better be a good answer to that question. Dean looks at Sam, who studies Tom, then gives Dean a one-shouldered shrug. Dean grins, bounces on his toes. "A completely different plane of existence, my man. Now come on, where's a good place around here for milkshakes?" 

Jennifer, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jennifer, age seven, is sitting in a treehouse in her backyard. The space is expansive, acres upon acres backing up to a creek and a copse of trees, everything green and fresh. Sam stands at the bottom of the rope ladder, calls out, "I have a better idea than selling your soul," and she peeks out with a frown that's completely unexpected on a seven-year-old. "Besides, you're not going to find a demon to deal with you, not for years. I'm afraid it's either my suggestion or a few years' wait, and we both know that's not an option." She's used to being called a child, so the tone of voice that this man has, this stranger, when he talks to her, like an adult, like a person with her own mind and thoughts and dreams, piques her interest. She takes the longest to agree and Dean gives up on paying attention twenty minutes in. Sam's grinning, though, when she finally shakes his hand, her eyes firm, her decision made. 

April and Bethany are twins, and Sam and Dean come up to them at their mother's gravesite, after everyone but their uncle and aunt have gone. They buried their father yesterday, their two little brothers three days before that, and have no idea what to do now that they're over this last hurdle. For the last couple weeks, they've been telling each other they just need to get the funerals over with, just need to survive, but now they're coming to the sinking realisation that survival is really all they have left. They're fourteen. How are they supposed to come back from the deaths of their family? "We're sorry for your loss," Sam says. "If you don't have anything planned, we'd like to offer you a proposition," Dean adds. They look at each other, perfectly in sync, and then back at these two men they've never seen before but think they could grow to like, if not love, simply because they aren't offering any bullshit when that's all April and Bethany have been given over the last two weeks.

Matteo picks himself off the ground, dusts off his knees, and runs a thumb over his split lip, licks off the blood. When the light behind him changes, he turns, sees two men standing at the entrance to the alley, blocking his exit. They're -- fuck, they're _hot_. "If you're lookin' for a fight, I'm not gonna put one up," he tells them. "And if you wanna fuck, I'm kinda out of fucks to give." The taller one smirks at that and Matteo feels his stomach drop, but the shorter one comes a couple steps closer, says, "Not lookin' for either. I got him for fuckin'," and he tilts his head back at the tall man, who nods in answer to Matteo's raised eyebrow, "and plenty of others I can pick a fight with. Nah, we're in the market for something a little different." Matteo is a street-smart seventeen and far too clever to ask, "What's that?" -- and yet he does anyway. 

Eliza finds them, aged nine-going-on-old-crone-ninety. When she looks at Sam, her eyes flash red: scarlet red, blood red, heart bursting open and drenching them down to their skin red. Dean goes curiously still on his side of the hellgate, taking in the runes on her palms and a pattern of blood on her face that Sam merely hums at. "I don't belong here," she says. She still has the voice of a child, one who should be out playing with friends, going to ballet class and soccer practice and driving her parents crazy asking for a dog, a cat, anything, she'll take care of it. It's disconcerting, a little, to see the corpse at her feet, throat slit, mouth open in a silent scream and eyes wide with dead horror. The ritual is perfect, though, and, better yet, more promising, it's not one that any hunter would recognise. Every demon would, though. "I belong with you." Sam's eyes go white with lightning and he reaches out a hand, says, "Yes. You do. Let's go home, Eliza." 

\--

They come, human children and teenagers, wishing for a family, for a change, for an understanding. And the king of hell and his consort are there to greet them all with open arms and one eternal moment of sheer agony and absolute torment.


End file.
